Fetishists Anonymous
by BrDPirateMan
Summary: When Rhyme has enough of Beat's ridiculous obsession with curry, she sends him off to Fetishists Anonymous, a self-help group catering to people with strange hobbies and quirks, in hopes that he'll improve as a person. [Note: Contains nothing sexual.]


**Fetishists Anonymous  
**by BrDPirateMan

"How can you not have curry, yo? ! It's great stuff!"

"Uh… sorry, kiddo. But as you can see… this is a ramen shop."

"But curry's, like, everywhere! It's an important food in Japan! If you can't be bothered to include it in the menu, then you should jus' – whoa, Rhyme? What're you doing, girl? ! Stop pullin' me by the collar like that, it's gonna break or sumthin'! An' you jus' can't – "

As Rhyme dragged the still-swearing Beat out of the shop, she apologized to the proprietor. "I'm terribly sorry for his behaviour. We'll be leaving now!"

The two siblings found much-needed solace in an empty park, where the younger, more precocious one began berating her older, thickheaded brother. She always approached life's problems with her usual calm disposition, and was rarely seen angry or even exasperated. Today, however, she finally lost her temper and chided him in a harsh manner no one would have imagined possible with her.

"Beat, I have had it up to here with your nonsense!" She emphasized how fed up she was by putting her hand to her throat. "Your infatuation with curry is making you a laughingstock in the whole of Shibuya! I know you're a fan, but can't you at least exercise some discretion when you're in public? !"

He held his hands up, as though to stop her from speaking. "I don't get it."

"Get what?"

"Those words, man. The heck do you mean by 'infatuation' and 'discretion'?"

She suddenly was reminded by how inept Beat was at language and let out a heavy sigh. It was up to her to break it down into simpler words… like usual. "All I'm saying is that you should curb – I mean, uh, stop – your curry impulses whenever we go out to eat."

"But curry is – "

Rhyme cut him short. "No matter what kind of restaurant you go into, you always ask for curry."

"And what's wrong with that? !"

"For the most part, nothing. Except that when you find out they don't have curry on sale, you get mad and start scolding everyone there. Like just now! At this rate, they're going to bar you from ever setting foot inside. They might even call the police! Beat, look…" She ran her fingers through her hair. "…I'm just worried about you, okay? Please promise me you wouldn't – "

Now that Beat had been left firmly on the defensive, he went all out and launched his own reasons to explain himself. "Oi, Rhyme, come on. It ain't wrong to make demands. I'm the customer! Plus they kinda brought it upon themselves. I mean, no curry? ! They's the ones in the wrong! You simply must have curry! Nothing's complete without it! 'Nuff said!"

"Beat, I think your love for curry is turning into an obsession. It's unhealthy."

He just snorted. "Unhealthy, mah foot, yo. You should know curry's full of vitamins and minerals. It's like takin'… I dunno, vitamin pills or somethin', but much tastier! Tasty and nutritious. It don't get better than that!"

"Th-That's not what I meant." Rhyme shook her head and was at a loss for words. "You need help. Seriously."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I know of this psychotherapy group that may be able to help you deal with your being a diehard curry fanatic."

"Psychos? What psychos?"

"No, you misunderstand. It's a self-help group. People with all sorts of problems get together and talk about it in the hope that they'll get better. And since I say you've got a massive problem yourself… it can't hurt to join them and take a look. I'm sure if you attend their sessions, you might just stop going crazy the next time you order lunch at school… or anywhere else for that matter." She threw her arms in the air. "I'm trying to help you here!"

Beat was about to snap back at her but decided not to get stuck in another vicious cycle of arguments and counterarguments. Instead, choosing to remain calm – a rare occasion – he said:

"Aight, fine. I'll go sign up for this psycho group or whatever. But Rhyme, can you promise to not get on my case so much if somethin' good comes out of it?"

Although it was too soon to breathe a sigh of relief just yet, she was at least happy that he agreed to her suggestion. She even allowed herself a small smile. "Alright, fair enough. I'll let you off the hook if you can do something about this."

XOXOXOXOXO

And that was how Beat ended up in the meeting room of Fetishists Anonymous. There were only a few people here on this day; self-help sessions tended to host small groups at a time to encourage people to talk and not feel so shy as opposed to large gatherings where they are more likely to clam up.

Everyone sat on chairs in a ring. He looked around at all the varied characters. Many of them were teenagers or twenty-somethings. Among others, there was a bespectacled girl and a man who was heavyset and looked imposing with his large size. What problems could all of these "normal" people have?

The instructor, a woman sporting glasses and a battering ram of a chest, took her seat and spoke in a somewhat cold tone:

"Good afternoon to all of you, and welcome to Fetishists Anonymous. I am Mitsuki Konishi and I will be conducting today's session. Our organization focuses on helping people who feel they are being tied down and held back in life by fetish-related problems ranging from OCD to sexual deviancy.

"There are a few simple rules to follow. First, it's important that you open up to us, and second, you must never make fun of anyone else's problems. And if at any point you feel uncomfortable, you can always stop. We'll be fine with it. Now… shall we begin?"

The bespectacled girl raised her hand slowly. "I… um… Can I go first?"

"Sure you may."

The girl adjusted her glasses nervously and it was obvious that she was shy. "Uh… I'm… I'm Shiki Misaki. I'm a high school student and I've in a real bind concerning my fetish about… sewing."

No one in the room found it very strange at all. Some people could take their hobbies to extremes, and if this girl was one of them, then a little restraint and proper time management would be all she needed to get back on track in her life.

As it turned out, the problem was deeper than it looked…

She continued cautiously, "See, uh… I'm a perfectionist. Whenever I see a flaw on clothes like a small tear or the corner of a pocket coming away, I simply have to fix it. Like, no matter what. If I don't, I feel this nagging itch and I can't get rid of it until I do! It's not just my clothes… I feel the same way about my friends' clothes or even those of strangers, and it really bugs me!"

The group drew the conclusion that she was simply being obsessive-compulsive, but she had not finished talking yet. There was more to her problem than meets the eye. "I often get the uncontrollable urge to mend them right on the spot, but to do that, well, I'd have to have them take off their clothes, right? And that's obviously not going to happen, so… Argh, it's all I can do to not strip them bare with my own hands, and unfortunately, sometimes I can't hold it in. It's becoming really problematic… I already lost a few pals this way."

Everyone stared at her, shocked. Beat himself was hard-pressed to believe that this girl, small and meek and cute, was actually capable of forcefully ripping clothes off of people with the intention of fixing them. Her heart was in the right place, but…

Konishi, having seen many fetishists far worse than her, showed no signs of bewilderment. As she stroked her chin thoughtfully, thinking of what to say, she remained calm.

"Shiki, it's good that you came to us before things truly got out of hand. It is at times like these that a combination of positive thinking and imagery is essential for keeping your tendencies at bay."

"H-How do you suggest I go about it?"

"Every time you get one of those urges, and you really feel like you're this close to snapping, start visualizing. Push that pause button and think very deeply and clearly about what would happen if you did something like that. Tell me, Shiki, if you tried to take someone's clothes off in public, what would happen?"

The girl mumbled, "Um, th-they'd – well, the police would come arrest me?"

"Exactly. Thinking of the negative impacts of an action and solidifying them inside your mind is an effective deterrent. Imagine yourself being led away in handcuffs in front of everyone. You'd feel shameful, wouldn't you?"

"Y-Yes…"

"When they try you in court for your crimes, having to relate everything to the jury is going to be embarrassing, yes?"

"Uh-huh… Mmm."

"And when you land yourself in jail…"

Suddenly, Shiki panicked a little. "N-No! Please, Ms Konishi. D-Don't go there…"

"Ah… My apologies. I can see you're getting into the entire visualization thing already though, and that's good. You're doing well, Shiki. Now, whenever you find yourself in another one of your situations, hold onto those images. The few seconds' delay is often all you need to regain your grip on your sanity. Do you see now?"

The seamstress fetishist, burying the instructor in an avalanche of thank-yous, appeared to finally see the light, and even Beat had to admit that Konishi's advice was solid and spot-on. He was impressed, and by the looks of everyone else in the room, they too shared his awe.

"Now, everyone," said Konishi, "you may not face the same type of dilemma as Shiki here, but always remember: your imagination can save you. So always count on it. Right then… if anyone has anything else they'd like to share with Shiki, you may do so. Otherwise, let's listen to the next person." Her saintly – if robotic-sounding – words sufficed, so the spotlight shifted to a youth with a cap and a red bandanna.

The second participant was very careless – maybe even a smidge rude – in his introduction of himself. "Howdy, radians. Sho Minamimoto's the name. Well… for my occupation, you could say I'm a… prodigy. I'm over 9000 light-years ahead of you, so there, zetta 000s!"

Beat already didn't like the look of this person, and neither did most of the others, but Konishi was still as serene and professional as before. If she was in any way displeased with his attitude, she certainly wasn't showing it on her face.

She cleared her throat briefly. "Ahem… So, Mr Minamimoto… Is it fine to call you Sho? I'd prefer to do away with formalities that may stifle the atmosphere, because our self-help sessions are meant to be relaxed and easy-going."

"'Master' would be even better! But eh, I'm kidding. As for my name, suit yourself. So… I guess I should talk about my fetish now, huh?"

"Yes, please do so."

"Aight… I'll be 100% honest here, yeah? I'm in love with two things: mathematics, and garbage."

One of the group members couldn't resist blurting out, "G-Garbage? !"

Sho turned nasty in a snap. "And what the factorial is wrong with it, huh, you obtuse angle? ! Garbage is art! It's beauty! It's the ultimate form of creativeness! You odd numbers may just subtract your trash and toss it out, but not me. With the right amount of multiplication, truncation, and interpolation – oh man, I just _love_ that word! – a pile of scrap can become an avant-garde piece of zetta awesomeness…"

This time it was Beat's turn to pipe up, "Whatchu say again… interpolicestation?"

"No, no! Interpolation! What, you don't even know this term? You're out of your vector. Learn it well! Look it up on the internet or something, I don't zetta care. Just get it in your thick – "

"Whatever, yo… I ain't interested."

Sho was about to launch another barrage of incomprehensible nonsense when Konishi herself interrupted him, much to everyone's relief. "I'm sorry, Sho, but I'll have to cut you off here. You said you love mathematics and garbage. Am I right to say you have taken your liking for these two to… extreme levels, so to speak?"

"Ha! Extreme? I'm hardly extreme… more like infinite! I love mathematics so much, I can string lyrics together out of numbers and formulas. Heck, I even made a trigonometry-inspired version of _Macarena_. Wanna hear it?"

Konishi's face was still straight and unchanging, but one might wonder for just how much longer she could stand the presence of the math freak before she impaled him with the clipboard she was holding. "Sho, I'm sure you must be eager to share it, but I'm afraid we can't spare any time for that. By the way, I was under the impression that everyone here had fetishes that are causing them problems."

"Yeah, so?"

"Yet you don't seem like you're having problems with anything at all – math or garbage. In fact, you appear to embrace your fetishes fully and happily… So, on the risk of sounding impolite, why come here in the first place?"

Even Shiki couldn't ignore the logic behind that. "Oh yeah… what brings you here anyway, uh… Sho?"

The crazy one took a deep breath. Then, very proudly he announced, "I simply want to spread my love for math and garbage to as many people as I can reach out to. Come now, even you zeros gotta admit that sharing is caring, right? Courtesy = $0, after all! So you see, it's a personal mission of mine, and – "

There came a sudden rapping on the front door of Fetishists Anonymous' office. Konishi excused herself from the meeting room to answer it while Sho was left to preach the finer pleasures of Pythagoras' theorem to his uninterested listeners. A full minute of his rambling about how right angles can be sexy went by before Konishi returned bearing unfortunate news for him.

She stood in the open doorway, seemingly alone. "Sho, some people are here to see you."

"Oh, more listeners! Ha ha, inverse matrix! Fantastic! Well, I say come one, come all. Let's all join in the fun! I was just getting to the part about reciting the first 100 digits in pi! Altogether now! 3.14159…"

His lecture would come to a swift – albeit satisfying – end. From behind Konishi a platoon of men marched in. When Sho laid his eyes on them, his blood ran cold and the numbers died in his throat.

They wasted no time. All the men pounced upon him and pinned him to the floor, and he had only himself to blame for being too slow to react. Everyone else retreated to one side of the room while he was being wrestled into submission like an alligator, all the while as chairs were flung everywhere. The self-help group participants were shocked and appalled with the exception of Beat who thought the whole affair as exciting, like watching a street fight. Eventually though, after some understandable difficulty, Sho was successfully placed under control… in a straitjacket.

One of the men wiped his brow. "Sho Minamimoto, you are under arrest for escaping custody. You have the right to remain silent. Now come along with us back to the station and stop squirming."

Yes, they were policemen who had come hunting for him based on a tip-off from someone. As for the history behind Sho, another policeman saw fit to explain it briefly to the horribly confused bystanders.

With their captive shouting random mathematical jargon in the background, the policeman said, "Sorry for all the trouble, folks. Truth is, this man escaped from jail, and uh… he's wanted for over 58 counts of littering and vandalism in the form of tearing open dustbins and using trash to assemble these… Iunno, these weird junk sculptures, out in the open."

"They're not weird!" protested Sho, writhing in his bindings. "You sons of digits… They're art! ART! 3.1415926…"

The policeman rolled his eyes to the skies. "Aww, not again. When he gets like that with his number nonsense, he'll never stop. Hey pal!" He turned to a colleague of his. "Get the duct tape on him! Ugh… seriously. Lips still flapping even after 50,000 volts of taser shots? What a fruitcake. Anyway, sorry again for all the trouble, Ms Konishi, everyone. Oh, and thanks plenty."

"Oh, don't mention it," said the ever-patient instructor. "We should be the ones thanking you."

With the source of harassment arrested and safely out of sight, everyone breathed a unanimous sigh of relief. Beat gave a quiet snicker. The way Sho was flailing so pathetically as he was taken away was a stark difference from the high-and-mighty manner with which he held the whole group hostage earlier with his stupid sermons. _Serves him right, yo._

The session was back in business at last. The heavy guy, who happened to be seated next to Beat, spoke up next in a booming voice.

"Hello everyone. I am Yodai Higashizawa. Cooking is my pride and joy, but sadly, it's also the reason I'm here."

Konishi's eyes glinted from behind her spectacles. "I see… A fetish, then?"

"Yes. Like our lady friend Shiki here, I too am a perfectionist. I always aim to create the best dish I can manage. However, this level of perfection extends beyond my kitchen, and, well…"

Higashizawa hesitated for a couple of seconds, fiddling with the cuff of his sleeve. Then he continued:

"…it makes me find faults in my food whenever I eat out. For example, just the other day I had ramen at a certain establishment, but I swear I could have cooked it better had I the chance! Surely even the freshest of fish can be caught fresher, if you get my drift! Anyway, it bugged me so much that I called for the chef and told him – politely, mind you – that it was slightly inadequate. But my tact went unnoticed like stale bread, and he became rather… disgruntled.

"It's always like this. No thanks to my fetish, I'm always causing problems wherever I go out to eat. Even coffee doesn't escape my scrutiny! It burns my heart charcoal-black whenever I'm reminded of how poorly I behave in public… oh wait, that's indigestion. Still…"

Shiki nodded. "Hmmm… I know what you mean. I empathise!"

"That's just the start. Other people find it weird that I have to stir-fry and season my conversations with cooking terms and names of foods, and – Kuh… There I go again! I can't help doing this. It just comes naturally, as natural as adding a pinch of fragrance when baking a cake."

"So in other words," said Konishi, "you claim to also share the same type of… verbal habit as Sho Minamimoto from earlier?"

"I'd rather not be put in the same league as him, but if you put it that way… then yes, I suppose you're right. Another thing that worries me is that recently I've become a big fan of curry – "

At the mere mention of that last word, a certain individual sprang to life.

"CURRY? ! Wow, fo' real, yo? I feel for you, man!"

Beat's loud roar caused everyone in the room to jump in their seats, and few appreciated his sudden outburst. Even the usually composed Konishi was fumbling with her glasses. But the courtesy-impaired boy's idiotic actions were oblivious to himself, and he continued to fire off questions excitedly to who he felt was a fellow curry enthusiast.

"So dude, you like curry too? ! I been lookin' round for some good curry too, but no luck. Can you believe it? !"

Once again it was up to Konishi to maintain order for the day. She was ever the epitome of patience as she politely told Beat to quiet down. "I'm sorry, but until we hear the rest of Higashizawa's story, please don't interrupt, um… what was your name?"

On any other day, Beat would slam her for stopping him cold, but after seeing all the faces directed at him, he decided against it. He rubbed his shoulder, feeling slightly embarrassed. "Um, my name is… Well, jus' call me Beat, yo. Just Beat is cool."

Higashizawa raised his hand and demanded attention. "Wait a minute. Beat, was it? You said you like curry?"

"Huh? Uh, yeah. What I said. So that makes the two of us, right?"

"Indeed. Hmmm… Interesting." He turned to the instructor. "Ms Konishi, if neither you nor anyone else minds, I think it'd be beneficial to hear him out. If his problem is the same as mine or even roughly so, it would help us both to overcome our problems. That's what I feel, anyway."

She took just the slightest moment to think, and surprisingly enough, she gave her okay. "Very well. We are supposed to share what we think, after all. If you claim to say that it will help, then I certainly wouldn't mind."

That was the cue for Beat to shine in the spotlight this time. Through a mixture of broken Japanese and street slang he managed to fumble through an explanation of his current predicament – though it was more of a predicament for his poor sister rather than himself.

"I'm, uh… I like curry a lot, but when I don't see it being sold in shops, I just get mad and fly off the handle. I'm always tellin' them, 'You gotta have curry! How can you not, yo? !' But people say that when I'm like that, I look dumb. And the restaurant guys get fed up with me or somethin'. My folks at home are tellin' me to get my act together and stop bein' such a bother to everyone, so yeah… I think I need help."

No one had ever heard of such a maniacal inclination toward food before. Not a soul knew what to think. Sure, this was a self-help group that catered to people with the strangest of fetishes, but this was something else. Higashizawa, however, was hardly taken aback at all. If anything, he seemed to be able to identify with Beat the best.

"Beat, I understand you perfectly," he said. "I don't think I'm wrong to say that curry is arguably the most important dish in the world of cuisine. The sweet aroma… the tenderness of the chicken… the way the spices just mix together in your mouth! It's the perfect dish for any day!"

"Heh." Beat was smiling broadly. "Whatchu said, yo. Your words are like music to my ears!"

"It's not right that curry is not sold readily in Shibuya. Somebody should do something about this."

The curry-obsessed boy was getting too excited for his own good. "I know, right? Why the heck no one wanna sell it, huh? You ask me, _that_ is pure dumb."

Just when the conversation was about to go out of hand and Konishi was about to cut in, Higashizawa himself stopped. "Ah… But I digress. We're here to talk about our fetishes for food, and if you ask me, Beat, it's not really such a big thing to worry about."

"You mean I can be, I dunno, cured?"

"Not exactly, but I finally realize what we should have been doing all this time… I'm saying we should embrace our love for food – and curry – and not be so tied down by what people think about us! If people like you and me exist in this society, there's still hope for us all. So in other words, we should just carry on how we have always been!"

Beat's eyes lit up like fireworks. "Oh yeah! Now _that_… That's a plan I can get behind!"

Konishi coughed. "Beat, Higashizawa… I believe we are here to deal with your fetishes? The way you're acting, however – and I must apologise for saying so – it completely defeats the purpose of coming here."

Beat wanted to lash out at her for even suggesting that they get rid of their culinary loves, but Higashizawa kept him in check. "I'm sorry, Ms Konishi. But you know what they say, within every artichoke lies a treasure of gold."

"I… I'm afraid I don't quite follow." Neither could anyone else, for that matter…

"All I'm saying is that good things lie in the unlikeliest of places. I've found my true calling with the help of Beat here. Never mind about the fetishes. They no longer matter! I will thus continue to pursue my culinary interests with great determination, and I believe he will do the same. Oh, have I mentioned how good curry goes with toast, by the way? Comes to mind."

A whoop of total agreement came from Beat. "Curry with toast? Wow, you sure know about it, yo! I'm diggin' it, man!"

XOXOXOXOXO

From anyone's point of view, it would seem like that day at Fetishists Anonymous wound up a huge failure for Beat and Higashizawa, but the two of them would argue otherwise. If it weren't for this chance meeting, they wouldn't have gotten to talking about curry and whatnot.

And now, five years later, they were best friends and the managers of the hippest and most famous restaurant in Shibuya. They served all kinds of scrumptious dishes well-suited to a variety of taste buds, but the main draw was, of course, curry. Thanks to their efforts, they were able to create what they claim to be the ultimate curry, and many customers can vouch for its elegant taste that would leave them craving for more.

Not only that, they were able to include fusion dishes to the menu. Some examples include curry ramen, curry pies, lobster curry… even curry ice-cream for hardcore enthusiasts.

Beat and Higashizawa. They may have seemed like unlikely bedfellows, and their incurable craziness over food may still cause the odd scene in public or two, but who cared if they were multi-millionaires? With multiple branch restaurants being built for the coming years, it would only be appropriate to say they were destined for greatness and nothing less.

And what of Rhyme?

She still hates how her brother is such a curry fanatic, but through his actions over the years he has managed to convince her that at the very least, he is now a better person. So nowadays she just lets him be. Besides, she did promise that if anything good came out of that meeting five years earlier, she wouldn't bother him about it. And now that the Bito family is rich beyond measure and she is in possession of a spanking new sports car, she has no right to complain.

There is a moral to be learned in this story. A most important moral.

And that is: not only is curry the best food in the world, it can also create miracles. It really is true. So don't be afraid to tuck into a bowl. You'll be surprised how much it can change your life for the better.

…

**Author's note: According to my dictionary, "fetish" means a desire in which you feel good from an abnormal liking for a certain item, body part, etc. I realize it is usually seen in a sexual context. "Fetishists Anonymous" sounds strange, don't you think? Makes one feel it's an M-rated story full of smut although it's far from it. I'd rather use a different word than "fetishists" but as my vocabulary stands right now, that's all I could think of. So if I offended anyone, sorry.**


End file.
